Children of Lir
by animerockchic
Summary: Based on an old Irish legend.  Ireland is stuck babysitting her youngest brother and, in an attempt to keep his quiet, tells him a story that for him, echos reality.  Rated for one word.


**Disclaimer: Animerockchic doesn't not own Hetalia or the Children of Lir.**

**Note : Alba = Scotland**

**Cymru = Wales**

**Albion = England**

**Éire = Ireland**

Éire sighed, why did she have to get landed with looking after her brat of a little brother? '_Oh yeah, __Cymru_ _and Alba pushed him off onto me and then fecked off. My family suck.' _She glanced over at Albion who seemed to be happily chatting with Méabh, a bean sí that had been following her for as long as she could remember, and Seamus, a leprechaun friend of hers.

Éire watched as Seamus tipped his red hat to Albion and made his way down to the hedgerow and out of sight. Similarly Méabh swooped away, off to terrorise someone with her wailing. Albion ran back to her and tugged on her skirt. "They'll be back soon, right?" Éire looked down at his upturned face, his huge eyebrows scrunched together in worry.

"Sure, Seamus is here practically every hour of the day, fixing shoes. That's how he earns all his gold: he fixes dancing shoes for the fey. As for Méabh, she always comes back eventually." _'Whether I want her to or not' _ thought Éire.

"Oh, alright then." Éire smiled slightly, "Let's get something to eat, I'm starving"

**~Epic pagebreak is epic~**

Éire yawned, it was getting late and Albion showed no signs of settling down to sleep. He sat, bouncing slightly on her bed looking around with bright, childish interest. It was cute during the day but now she was just tired and wanted sleep. "Hoy, Giddy-Goat, stad, más é do thoil é. Let me sit down too." Albion scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion, not understanding half of what she just said but stopped bouncing anyway. Éire perched herself beside her little brother and crossed her legs. "Tá a lán fuinneamh agat ach anois tá an oiche ag titim. So you need to settle down."

"...What?"

Éire smiled. "I said, you've got a lot of energy but night is falling. So you need to settle down."

At that, Albion started bouncing again and whined, "But I'm not tired!"

'_Cac'. _Éire racked her brains to think of something to shut him up. "How about I tell you a story, I'm a great seanchaí."

Albion stopped leaping on the bed and sat closer to Éire. "So what story are you going to tell me?"

"Um, how about 'The Children of Lir'?" Albion snuggled closer to Éire. "Okay."

Éire took a deep breath. "Well, once upon a time there was a king named Lir who had four children: a daughter named Fionnuala and three sons called Aodh, Fiachra and Conn. Their mother had died a few years before and the children missed her terribly. They missed her stories, her games, her songs and most importantly their mother herself. Lir decided to marry again in order to give his children a mother. He married a beautiful woman named Aoife, but she was hardhearted and an envious woman.

Aoife grew jealous of how much attention Lir paid to the children. You see, she wanted Lir all to herself. So she asked a druid, that's a Celtic priest, for help and together they thought up a way to get rid of the children.

Aoife brought the children to the large lake where they usually played...". Albion's eyes began to slowly droop, and then they shut completely.

_~Albion's dream~_

"Hoy, Albion? Albion, are you alright?" Albion opened his eyes to see Éire and Cymru standing worriedly over him.

"The wee bairn's dead, let's eat him." Albion sat up, clunking his head into Cymru's, at the sound of Alba's uncaring brogue. "Am not!"

"Grand, so we can get into the boat now, right?" Éire clapped her hands together and the four of them scrabbled into the little boat they had made the summer before. Their stepmother Britannia watched carefully from the bank.

Suddenly a strong gust of wind whirled around them and the smooth lake began to churn and toss. He clenched his eyes shut. An odd, painful and prickly sensation stole over every part of Albion's skin. His screams of fear and pain blended with his siblings. There was a flash of light and all became still and silent.

Albion cautiously opened his eyes. His siblings had vanished and in their place, three swans were fidgeting on the little boat. The swan closest to him flapped its wings slightly and opened its beak.

"What, what's happened to us?" It said with Éire's voice.

Britannia smirked, "What was yours is now mine. The four of you will be swans for nine hundred years. You must spend three hundred years here, three hundred years on the Sea of Moyle and three hundred years on the Isle of Glora. Only the sound of a church bell can break this spell I've laid."

With that said, Britannia got into her chariot and left.

"Why, why?" Alba-swan turned his head to the heavens. "Why, damnit, why! Why the hell did we do to deserve this?"

"Alba, stop it! You're not helping! We should tell Tad about this, maybe he could do something."

Alba squawked and glared at Cymru. "And what makes you think Pa will believe that it's us and that it was Britannia who did this?"

"Oh, stop it, both of you! Fighting isn't going to help us now, we need to stick together!" Éire's words rang with the sense of authority but her voice shook with fear and uncertainty.

Alba and Cymru subsided and looked away sheepishly, well as sheepish as swans can look. There was a long moment of silence, broken only by the sound of the lake water slapping gently against the side of the boat.

"So, what are we going to do then?" Albion piped up. "Well, I vote we wait here, at least for tonight. We can't go back home like this. But if Athair comes looking for us, we'll tell him what happened." Éire unfurled her wings, jumped and landed gracefully on the water.

Her brothers watched in confusion as Éire glided serenely on the water.

"What in the name of God are ye doing?"

Éire tossed her head and laughed. "Since we're going to be swans for a while, sure I might as well enjoy it". The three boys gapped at her, had their sister finally lost the plot?

Then Alba took to the air and, at the height of his ascent, dived towards Éire, neck outstretched like a spear. Éire dodged and Alba went head first into the water, sending a tower of water into the sky. Once he resurfaced, Alba squawked and began a pecking war with Éire.

Cymru sighed looked at Albion and shrugged. "If you can't beat them..." The pair of them flew over to join the other two idiots in their war/game.

*An dara Pagebreak ~ the Second pagebreak*

Éire watched as the sun began to sink in the bloodshot sky. She sighed and lowered her gaze to watch her brothers acting the maggot and messing around. A chill ran through her body, what were they going to do about food and shelter? And what about their father? What would he (or could he) do about their situation? Would he even find out or care about what happened to them? Éire shivered, she had no idea what to do. It was her job to look after her brothers... and she'd failed. When Alba was born and then when Cymru was born and once again when Albion was born, their parents had taken her aside and told her that, as the oldest, it was her job to be responsible and protect her little brothers. At the time she'd smiled and promised that she would. Now, she only felt a lump of shame in her long neck, she was a terrible big sister.

"Éire, Alba, Cymru, Albion!"

Éire turned at the sound of her father's voice, a feeling of hope flowing through her. _'Daidí always knows what to do'._

The three boys started scrambling over each other in an attempt to get to their father first while Éire glided calmly to the bank where their father was sitting, his face in his hands.

"Athair? It's me, Éire." Her father looked up in shock and reached as though to touch her but drew his hand back slightly at the last moment. "...Éire?"

Éire bent her neck slightly to nestle her head in his outstretched hand. " 'Tis me, Daidí. Don't you recognise me?"

By this time the other three had stop fighting and made their way over to their father and their sister.

Their father's eyes began to fill up with tears. "My children, who did this to you?"

"It was...it was..." Éire faltered, unable to say her step-mother's name.

"Britannia."

They all turned to look at Albion. "Well, it's true!"

A shadow passed over their father's face as he rose to his feet.

"Pa, are you alright?" Alba asked uncertainly. Their father didn't reply, but strode away back to the castle.

"Now, look what you did, idiot." Cymru cuffed Albion on the back of the head with his wing. "Now he's never going to come back and it's all your fault!"

"I...I didn't mean to... I didn't think..." Albion started to sniff pitifully. "Of course you didn't, you never think! You're just a big stupid baby! Go ahead, cry! Fat lot of good it'll do for us!" The normally calm and collected Cymru skimmed away from them in an angry flurry of feathers.

Albion began sobbing wholeheartedly. Éire hesitated for a second, glancing at Cymru and at Alba who was staring at the spot where their father had sat as though waiting for him to return, then wrapped her wings around her youngest brother.

"Shh, shh, 'twill be alright. I promise. He'll come back." Éire began humming a lullaby that their mother used to sing to them to calm him down. After a few bars, Alba, tough fearless Alba, snuggled up to his older sister, searching desperately for comfort and reassurance. Éire looked up at Cymru. He glanced back at her sullenly. Still humming, she beckoned her brother over. Cymru, a mite reluctantly, slid across the water and cuddled up against his sister.

And they stayed like that until morning, waiting and afraid to hope, four young children alone in the unknown.

~Pagebreak~

Fortunately their father returned the next morning with news that he had tried to make Britannia change them back, but she refused and he had banished her. Unfortunately no one else knew how to break the spell. But their father did not give up hope. He sent messengers far and wide in the hope of finding someone who could break the spell. But alas, no one could. He spent the rest of his life on the sides of the lake with his children. When their father passed away, the four children were heartbroken and cried for hours. They became very lonely as no one else ever came to the lake.

Eventually three hundred years passed and it was time to move on to the Sea of Moyle. There it was cold and stormy with strong winds, pounding waves and little food.

Éire tried to protect her brothers but to no avail, they were constantly dashed against the sharp rocks by the ferocious wind. Those three hundred years passed very slowly.

They were very tired and feeling very old by the time they moved to the Isle of Glora. They longed to see another person. It had been over 6 hundred years since they had seen another human.

Albion woke up one morning, an odd feeling in his chest, the feeling that _something_ was going to happen. He watched the sun's rays peek over the horizon and paint his siblings' feathers gold. _'Wait, what was that?' _ Albion could have sworn he'd heard something. And there it was again!

"Éire, Éire, wake up!" Albion poked her in the side with his beak.

"G'way, Mamaí. Cuig noimead, más é do thoil é." Éire turned over in her sleep, mumbling to herself.

"But Éire, today's the day! The day we've been waiting for!" Albion flapped his wing excitedly. Éire sat up and shook her head in an attempt to rouse herself.

_Clang! Clang! Clang!_

The other two slowly began to wake due to the loud noise, moaning and groaning. They froze, realizing what had woken them.

A church bell. The sound they had waited nine hundred years to hear.

The four of them followed the sound to a small chapel made of wood and stone. They watched the bell swinging back and forth, the metal piece within hitting off the sides.

"...Well, isn't something going to happen?" Albion asked. "The spell's supposed to break at the sound of a church bell, right?"

"Aye, that's what Britannia said all them years ago. So, why aren't we turning back?"

A surprised "Veee~?" seemed to be the only answer to Alba's question. The four of them turned to see a shocked young man with an odd hair curl staring at them.

"Vee~ , you're swans, you shouldn't be talking!"

Éire sighed. "We know that. We were human like you then someone turned us into swans and the only way to break the spell is the sound of a church bell." Éire glanced up at the now stationary bell. "But it doesn't seem to have worked."

The young man seemed to be deep in thought, his face screwed up slightly as though in pain.

"Wait here." He said. "Fratellooooooo!" he took to his heels and ran back to the church. He came back five minutes later with a jug of water. He sprinkled the water over them.

The moment the water touched them, the four swans changed into three very old men and one very old woman.

~End of dream pagebreak~

Albion sat up with a jump. Where was he? All he could see was darkness. "Éire, Éire!" he bleated. His sister mumbled a response beside him. She got up and lit a candle. The small room was suddenly bathed in golden light. "Albion, what is it? Is it a nightmare?"

Albion looked down at his hand, which were thankfully featherless and asked, "How...how did the story end?"

Éire's eyebrow twitched. "That's what you woke me up for."

"I had a dream about it and I want to know how it ended."

Éire's expression softened. She reached over, took Albion in her arms and stood up.

"Well, how far did you get in the dream?"

"Well, the monk priest man poured water over the swans and changed them back."

Éire smiled. "Then Caomhóg, that's the monk priest man's name, told them about God. Then Fionnuala put her arms around her brothers and the four of them died. I mean, they were over nine hundred years old, humans don't live that long. Caomhóg buried them all in the one grave. That night he had a strange dream." Éire strode over to the window to look out into the moonlit night. She readjusted her little brother on her hip and pointed out the window.

"Do you see what I see? It's the same thing Caomhóg saw in his dreams" she said, the pair of them gazing at the four swans flying across the moon. "Fionnuala, Aodh, Fiachra and Conn flying up to heaven to be with their mother and father once again. Now can we go back to sleep please? You might not be tired but I am."

Albion snuggled his head into Éire's shoulder and yawned. "Alright then."

Éire put her brother back into bed, placed a kiss on his forehead and got into bed beside him. "Sleep well, mo dheartháir."

**Translations**

Stad, más é do thoil é (Irish) = Stop, please

Tá a lán fuinneamh agat ach anois tá an oiche ag titim (Irish) = you've got a lot of energy but night is falling

Cac (Irish) = (literally "Poo") Shit. 

Seanchaí (Irish) = Storyteller 

The Children of Lir = An Irish legend 

The wee bairn's dead (Scottish) = The little child's dead.

Daidí/Athair (Irish), Tad (Welsh), Pa (Scottish) = Dad or Father.

G'way, Mamaí. Cuig noimead, más é do thoil é. (Irish) = G'way Mammy. Five minutes, please. 

Fratello (Italian) = brother.

Mo dheartháir = My brother.

**A/n**

**Holy Roman Empire, that took me ages! Hopefully I won't wait so long to write a new one. Hope you enjoyed.**

**Ja!**

**~Animerockchic**


End file.
